


One-Shots for the Soul [Requests OPEN!]

by Duskythesomething



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:21:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6813013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duskythesomething/pseuds/Duskythesomething
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the hopes of improving my writing, I'll be taking prompts/ideas/requests from anyone and everyone!<br/>Just a collection of one-shots about the Avengers~!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Will be taking requests for:**

Tony Stark [Iron Man]  
Steve Rogers [Captain America]  
Bruce Banner [Hulk]  
Thor Odinson  
Clint Barton [Hawkeye]  
Natasha Romanoff [Black Widow]  
James Buchanan Barnes [Bucky/Winter Soldier]  
Sam Wilson [Falcon]  
Loki Laufeyson  
Pietro Maximoff [Quicksilver]  
Wanda Maximoff [Scarlet Witch]

And possibly others. Just ask!


	2. Perching: Clint/Male!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n is always climbing around, perching himself in the weirdest places, and doing the weirdest things.  
> And also flirting with Clint when he does so, don't forget that.
> 
> Alternatively;  
> Y/n's mission to get Barton to admit he has feelings for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh reader has brown hair, blue eyes because I hate trying to format with the whole h/c and e/c thing. Using y/n is bad enough.
> 
> also reader is really suggestive because hahahahahha why not
> 
> okay the entire story is suggestive hahaha

Clint had feelings for Y/n, he just _had_ to. And Y/n was going to help him come to term with these feelings.

The brown-haired boy dashed off from his hiding spot, stopping only to grab a handful of m&ms from a bowl sitting on the counter. He climbed up and perched himself precariously on top of one of the hanging punching bags in the training/gym area, legs wrapped tightly around the chain and top of the bag.

When Clint entered the room, stretching out his shoulders, he wasn't exactly prepared for the childish Y/n to be swinging on the bag, loudly singing Adele at the top of his lungs. Y/n paused his singing to toss another few pieces of the slightly melting candy in his mouth, turning his head to give Clint a wide smile. He raised the hand not holding candy to wave, removing it from where it'd been tightly holding the chain and steadying him.

Clint was in front of the bag in moments, arms crossed. "You need to get down. You're gonna get hurt."

"If I fall, then you'll either catch me or take care of me when I'm hurt." The brunet smirked. Clint sighed and shook his head, turning on one foot to go to another punching bag. He fiddled with the wrappings on his hands, giving the blue-eyed demon a look, before slamming his fist into it.

The bag swung and heaved under the blows, and a light sheen of sweat began to appear on Clint's body, Y/n noted with satisfaction. Y/n also finished his candy and licked off the melted coloring and chocolate from his palm, but didn't put his hands back on the chain, instead just allowing himself to be held only by his legs.

And if he absolutely, life-or-death situation _had_ to admit it: yes, his legs _were_ giving out.

But that didn't mean we was going to admit defeat and hold on.

So, naturally, Y/n continued to swing around on the bag, limited in his movements with only the slight give of the chain, but enough to let him feel like a kid. He started to sing again at one point, bits and pieces of songs that came to him, and Clint found it beautiful, almost stopping once or twice to wonder how _this_ song made him think of _that_ one.

Another fifteen minutes later, and Y/n's leg muscles were _screaming_. They burned with the pain, and he was sure the indentations from the shiny chain weren't ones that would go away quickly, either. Along with the forming bruises just under his skin. Shorts really weren't the best idea for this, were they?

He attempted to change position, without losing his grip or having to hold the chain. No such luck. Clint looked over at him, almost warily, but said nothing, and turned away again at the pointed glare he received. Grudgingly, Y/n took the chain in his hands, lifting his lower body and re-positioning himself. He had a sudden idea, and wondered what reaction it might spark from the archer.

"I think Tony should install some stripper poles in here."

Much like he expected, Clint looked over, raising a brow, one hand steadying the well-beaten punching bag in front of him. "What?"

"For pole dancing. It would be fun." Y/n's bright eyes sparkled with the idea, but he also smirked mischievously.

Clint shook his head, refusing to let his mind wander. Refusing to let thoughts of Y/n in tight clothes... arching his body around a pole... _nope_.

"And why is that?" He swallowed, blocking the idea. Y/n watched the archer refuse to indulge in his pretty little fantasies, much to his disappointment.

Y/n shrugged. "I just think that it would be graceful, that's all. No need to get your boxers in a bunch, Barton." He let out a little snort at his use of alliteration, raising a hand to cover his mouth and muffle the little giggles coming from him. Clint gave a little sigh and looked over at the kid- well, young adult, but enough of a kid in personality- his head hung, shaking in mock disappointment.

"You're gonna kill me, kid." He tossed over his shoulder as he turned to leave. Y/n gave no protest, even when the archer kicked a padded mat over by the bag he was on.

Once Clint was gone, Y/n let himself fall from the bag, landing on the mat with a heavy _thunk_. Okay, today's plan hadn't worked, but there's always tomorrow, yeah?

After waking up earlier than usual, Y/n was feeling a bit tired and extremely mischievous. He showered, and dressed again in comfy boxers and a pair of sweatpants that hung _just_ a little bit low on his hips. Checking his appearance in the mirror one last time, he hurried to the kitchen, damp, tousled hair dripping down his back. The droplets of water made him shiver, but he regained his composure once he noticed Clint sitting at the table, sipping coffee, and reading. Without a word, the brunet climbed atop the giant fridge, snatching a banana to 'nibble' at.

"So," he began, snickering at how Clint, who was still half-asleep, jumped and nearly spilled his coffee on himself, "are you always awake and corpse-like this early, or is that just a today thing?"

"Jesus, kid," Clint took a sip of coffee, having set his book down, holding a hand over his heart gently, "don't spook me like that. I'm always awake this early. The question is, why are _you_ up and.. having showered, I'm guessing, this early?"

Y/n shrugged. "Just woke up early, I guess. What'cha reading?" He unpeeled the banana from the bottom, like you're supposed to, and took a small bite out of it.

Clint glanced back down at the book sitting on the table. "This is one of the books in a trilogy for teens that Nat recommended to me. It's called The Zodiac Trilogy. Good so far, I guess."  
When he looked back up at Y/n, the boy was sucking on the banana, stopping to take another nibble of it. He wasn't bobbing his head, _thankfully_ , but the way his tongue flicked out and licked it made Clint shift uncomfortably.

Seeing the archer's reaction, Y/n laughed, a pure melody to Clint's ears, and chomped down the rest of the fruit without any more teasing. He judged the distance to the trashcan, and managed to sloppily toss it in, making Clint cringe at his bad aim. Y/n slipped off of the fridge, hand flying down to make sure his pants didn't fall _off_ , he only wanted them _low_.

Clint's eyes began to travel over the boy's chest, muscular -but not very- and pale. His gaze sunk lower, scraping over where the sweatpants showed off his hips. He gulped, shifting again, and forced himself to look away. Damn kid.

Y/n turned himself towards the counter, busying his hands with making a sweetened cup of coffee, and biting his lip to keep from laughing at the archer's previous wide-eyed, red-faced, deer-caught-in-headlights, expression. He tossed a look over his shoulder, seeing Clint staring down at his own coffee, which was gripped tightly in his hands- to the point that his knuckles were pale.

"I guess I'll have to check them out. The books." He said sweetly, continuing their conversation. He leaned back against the counter, despite the coldness of it digging into his lower back being _a little_ uncomfortable.

(Okay, it was _really_ uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to just back down _now_.)

"Huh? Oh yeah.. you should." Clint still wasn't meeting his eyes, so Y/n took that as a win. He smiled and tilted his head, a few locks of damp hair falling into his eyes. Charming the archer- or seducing him, either way was fine- wasn't as hard as he'd thought.

"I think I'm gonna go check out what... Wanda.. is doing." He chose another Avenger at random, and noted how Clint sighed very softly in relief. With a smirk, Y/n nearly _skipped_ from the kitchen, spare for his cool composure and the warm coffee in his hands.

Clint was left alone with lukewarm coffee, a book, and a lot of frustration for that _goddamned tease_.

Later that evening, Y/n had changed into a pair of basketball shorts, (comfy, loose, and cool, but also able to hide the bruises he got from his stubbornness), and a loose t-shirt. He joined a few of the other Avengers in one of their large living room areas for a movie, flipping a coin with one hand out of boredom.

"Is Barton coming?" Sam asked, remote in hand, the movie almost ready to go.

Natasha shrugged. "Said he would, but I dunno. Someone wanna go get him?" She directed the last sentence at everyone in the room, which included herself and Sam, Y/n, Wanda, Bucky, and Vision.

Y/n shot up, smiling, as usual, mischievously. "I'll get him!"  
Before any of the others could question, he was dashing from the room to find the archer.

He slowed down, only slightly, as he made his way towards Clint's room, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He fell backwards, though, letting out a squeak and landing on his butt, when another figure slammed into him. Or more of, _he_ slammed into _them_. The other figure let out a low grunt and also seemed to fall back, reaching out to steady themselves against the wall.

He looked up to see Clint. The older man grunted again, blinking down at Y/n. "Did you just squeak?"

"Nope. You're imagining things." He smirked, relaxing and allowing himself to just sit on the floor. Being a little bit taller than Clint, he didn't ever really get to see the archer from such a low angle, especially because he was always perched somewhere up high.

"Whatever, kid, it was cute. Now get off the floor." Clint offered his hand, and pulled the brunet to his feet.

Y/n blinked in confusion. _"Cute?"_ His cockiness faltered majorly.

Clint sighed, reaching a hand up to run through his hair, fidgeting a little bit. "Yeah. You got me kid, I admit it. Cute. Annoyingly cute." His eyes shifted to the side, embarrassed at even the thought of admitting, much less actually doing so. Y/n's face flushed pink, and he smiled shyly. 

"I won, then!" He cheered softly to himself, doing a little victory dance. "So this means you like me as well, yes?"

"Don't act so surprised, really." Clint growled softly, giving him a halfhearted glare.

Y/n smirked again, for a second. He softened his eyes and pouted. "Say it. Please?"

Clint's grunted. "No way. The answer you got is good enough." But when Y/n bit his bottom lip _just like that..._ it was hard to not want to give in and do whatever he said.

The brunet tilted his head a slight bit, glancing away, and playing up the _cute, shy, innocent_ act all the way.

So of course he wasn't paying attention when Clint grabbed his face in his calloused hands, turning his head and smashing their lips together. His mind exploded, just a little.

(Just a _lot_.)

He returned the frustrated passion, his own hands snaking up to drape around Clint's neck, over his shoulders. They broke away moments later, much too soon for Y/n's liking. But Clint gently pulled his head down, so that their foreheads were touching, and their heavy breaths mingling together in the short space.

"Does that count as saying it?" Clint breathed softly, one pair of blue eyes looking into another. Y/n nodded as best as he could, with Clint's hands still holding his face.

The archer stepped back, dropping his hands and shaking his head, but smiling softly. "Goddamn it, kid. Now they'll be wondering just what happened to us. Pull yourself together, and, if you're lucky, I'll cuddle you when no one's paying attention." He grabbed the brunet's wrist, gently tugging him in the direction of the living room.

Y/n's tongue ran over his bottom lip, savoring the taste. He nodded and let himself be pulled along, stumbling once in a hazy, lost-in-thought way.

No one was surprised to see the pair sit so close together, and they all politely pretended not to notice when they moved _even closer_ during the middle of the movie when the lights were off. Y/n had succeeded. Now, he didn't have to perch so awkwardly to get Clint's attention.


	3. Dorks on the Street: Transgirl!Bucky/Dorky!Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request:  
> "Just make someone transgender for me please"  
> well okay
> 
>  
> 
> After being turned away from so many people because of her secret, Becky fears getting close to others. That is, until Steve manages to charm his way to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW BECKY IS A CRINGY NAME SHHHHHH I LIKE IT AND IT'S SIMILAR TO BUCKY

She huddled at the end of the bar, dark brown locks falling over her face and hiding the shyness there. Her arms wrapped around her torso, wrinkling the pretty red fabric, and her brown eyes searched over the pulsing lights and ever-shifting bodies with no luck of finding her date.

He'd ditched her.

She sighed softly, raising the glass full of bright turquoise liquid to her lips, draining half of it in a single drink. She didn't notice when the seat beside her became occupied, only signaling the bartender for another drink, listening to the club's heavy-beat music resonating in her skull.

Another drink later, and the person beside her spoke up. "I wouldn't think that a lady like yourself would be so alone on a Friday night."  
She didn't respond, used to creeps wanting to get into her pants.. only to find... no.  
The person spoke again. "This club is a mess, don't'cha think? And this music is awful." 

She looked over, finally, to see a man with bright blond hair and twinkling baby blue eyes. He was dressed casual, a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt, leather jacket over his shoulders. Her eyes fell again, down to her faded, slightly ripped galaxy leggings peeking from under her dress. "Yeah, they should play Adam Lambert." She mumbled.

"An interesting choice. Are you a fan? I'm Steve, by the way." He seemed content to just chat, _for now._

She nodded. "Trespassing is a good album. I'm Becky." She almost flinched at the now familiar name that poured as easily from her tongue as the liquor did from her glass, but also made people hate her.

"That's a pretty name." Steve smiled. He wished he could get her to look at him again, so that he could peer into those dark, sad eyes again. "Please, tell me if I'm crossing lines at any point, I'd hate to make you uncomfortable."

She looked up at him, still hunched, with some locks of hair in her face, raising a brow. "You aren't trying to get into my pants? Or drug me?"

He shook his head, smiling. "If I wanted to, it would've been too easy. Part of the reason I sat beside you, so that someone else _wouldn't_ drug you. And no, no need to break into the pants. Though those are leggings, by the way. And really nice ones, where'd you get them? I've been looking for some galaxy stuff for a friend of mine."

Becky straightened up, running a hand through her hair. Her brows were creased with confusion and hesitance. "Ordered them online."

Steve nodded. "Makes sense." He seemed lost in thought. "Though, you don't happen to know any shops around here that _do_ carry galaxy items, do you? My friend's birthday is coming up real soon, so that's why I'm asking." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks pink.

She almost smiled, almost. "Not really, in this part of town, that I know of. Sorry. What's this friend like?"

Steve's face lit up. "Well, her name is Natasha and she's really badass! Got this bad-girl, hipster-like vibe going on, and she's been getting _really_ into galaxy stuff lately, but her favorite pair of galaxy leggings got ripped up recently! She was so heartbroken about it, you'd''ve thought someone dumped her, though she's usually the one doing the dumping... She has really pretty red hair and its always so soft and she lets me play with it and try to braid it oh my gosh..."

At his sudden outburst of words, Becky giggled, a small smile lighting up her own face. Steve noticed this, and blushed, heat rising to his cheeks with embarrassment. "She sounds wonderful. Are you and her..?"

"Together? Heavens, no! She's gay as hell." He chuckled. "But I do live with her, at my apartment."

They continued talking about Steve's friends, and few of Becky's own, for a while.

The conversation had turned casual and friendly, and Becky nearly forgot the buzz she'd been seeking, and her near-empty second glass. She poured the rest of it into her mouth and was about to signal for another, when Steve's hand grabbed her wrist. "I don't think you should keep drinking. Please, Becky, its painfully obvious you were left here alone, this isn't your type of scene."

She turned to him, anger flaring up in her, but dissipating quickly with the concern she found in Steve's eyes. "Why do you.. care so much?"

"Because it's happened to me before." He shrugged.

"You? H-how?" She stammered, clearly confused. Steve was handsome, seemed plenty nice, how could anyone turn him down?

He shrugged again, looking at the glass of soda he's ordered a while ago. "Some people said I was too goody-goody. Some didn't like the fact that I was queer. Some just never showed up." He turned back to her. "We should get out of here, it's stuffy and loud."

She nodded, standing and slinging her back over her shoulder. Some internal signals reminded her that she hadn't known Steve that long, she shouldn't be following him out of a club late in the evening, he could be trying to hurt her, etc. And yet, she followed him. The pair found themselves on the sidewalk in front of the club, fluorescent light shining down on them.

"How about we go to this really cool coffee shop a block or so away? That is, if you're not allergic to cats and willing to walk." Steve suggested.

"Cats?"

"Yup. The Kitty Kafe! They have a few sweet little cats that they brought in off the streets to save them and keep people company! They're brushed every day, so they don't shed very much. You can even ask Janice, the woman usually behind the counter, and she'll let you brush them!" He grinned, offering his arm to her, like an old-timey gentleman.

"Steve," Becky said, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, "I think I'm starting to realize something about you."

"Oh? And what's that?" He looked down at her, smiling softly.

"You're a huge dork."

"True!"

She shook her head with a smile, letting their steps fall in time together. The streetlights and lights from the buildings they passed made Becky's hair shine, and Steve's _glow_. When they passed by a store with a bright green sign, his hair turned green for a moment. He continued to tell her jokes and stories about his friends, a tight group of people who were beginning to come to life in her mind, and he watched her smile and listened to her laugh.

"We're here!" Steve announced after a little while, gently tugging her to turn towards the little shop. It had a cute little sign, and a fluffy white cat was sitting in the window, looking at them. Becky pulled herself away from Steve to bend down a little and wave at the cat, smiling at it through the glass. He chuckled and gently pulled her inside, the door jingling its hello.

"Steve! And, not Natasha? Who's this lovely little doll?" The African-American woman behind the counter called over to them as she wiped down the counter top. "Do you still have those coupons I gave ya last time?"

Steve grinned, pulling the woman into a big hug when she came around the counter, dusting off her pretty, decorated apron. "I gave them to Clint, sorry. But I wanted to give him an excuse to come with us, since he isn't so big on the cats. Janice, this is Becky. I met her tonight, saved her from one of the big clubs, so don't scare her off, yet."

"Oh _alright_. It's wonderful to meet you, sweetheart. Please feel free to cuddle to your heart's content with our family of kitties!" Janice shook Becky's hand, before gesturing to the various little couches and armchairs in the shop with a wide sweep of her hand.

Becky shyly smiled, and nodded.

Janice turned back to Steve. "Iced coffee?" He nodded, and she looked to Becky. "And for you?"

"Uh.. the same, please. Lots of sugar in it." She watched the woman nod and busy herself making the coffees, but she was quickly pulled away, to a plush, green couch beside Steve. Within moments, an orange and white tabby was on Steve's lap, purring loudly, and a dark brown kitty had crept up and was sniffing Becky's foot. Janice brought them their drinks shortly after, when the brown cat was on the arm of the couch, still sniffing her. She sat the drinks (which had the cutest little cat faces on them) down on a little coffee table, and picked the cat up, plopping it in Becky's lap.

"Now you pesky little brat, be nice. She's here with Steve, of course she's safe to pet'cha." She tutted at the cat, who had decided to settle into Becky's lap and stare at her with bright green eyes. "Becky, this is Camilla, he's a real sweetheart. Don't mind the girly name, we thought he was a girl at first, but I think it suits his _flowery_ personality. The one all over Steve is Orange. Cleverly named by Steve himself."

Steve gasped in mock horror, "It is _not_ Orange! It's Orange Slice the Magnificent the Third!" He turned away from Janice, pretending to be hurt. But his smile didn't stay away for long.

Becky grabbed her cup and laughed. She felt... _safe_ around Steve, and Janice. She felt like she'd known them for years, and some of Steve's friends too, just by the stories about them. But, she couldn't let Steve continue to be so kind to her without him knowing her secret.

She took a sip, and sat straighter, causing Camilla to crack open an eye and look up at her, from where he'd fallen asleep in her lap. "Steve.. I need to tell you something."

"Unless you are _literally_ a murderer, or a fucking 'offensive page' blogger, I don't care." He responded casually, yet seriously, taking a big drink of his own coffee.

She sighed, this wasn't going to go well. "I'm transgender."

To her great surprise, Steve shrugged. "And I'm queer?"

"You don't hate me for it?" Her brown eyes widened.

Steve looked over at Becky, seeing how serious she was. He gently pushed Orange Slice the Magnificent the Third off of his lap and turned his body towards her, taking her coffee from her hands and setting both of their drinks on the table, only to take both of her hands in his. Baby blues looked into deep brown.

"Becky, I already knew. You have some really nice rugged charm about you, and I like that. I can also tell that you're trying to make your voice higher, and I recommend taking a lesson or two from Janice's wife, sometime. I don't know how you would even _think_ that you being trans would bother me. I mean, look at me, I'm a queer kid, living with a raging lesbian, hanging out with tons of non-binary and non-straight people all the time. Actually, I don't know how you being trans would even bother anyone else, unless that person was absolute trash."

Her mouth fell open, and tears began to well in her eyes. Steve raised a hand to brush against her cheek. 

"So what, if you have a dick? I have a dick. Dicks are cool. Whatever. Doesn't make you more or less of a lady. Anyone that thinks it does, needs to reevaluate their life choices and probably go stick their head in a dumpster." He smiled lightly, moving his thumb to wipe away a tear. "Don't cry, hun, your mascara and eyeliner look so good, it'd be a shame to ruin it!"

Becky pulled her hands away and pulled Steve in for a tight hug. "Thank you.."

He nodded, holding his arms around her protectively, comfortingly. A few feet away, Janice stood, watching them with a smile, and a plate with some cookies on it for them. "Doll, if you _are_ interested, my wife, a beautiful transgender woman such as yourself, has taken voice classes for years. She could show ya how to make you sound like _you_. Also I have some cookies if you'd like any."

Becky pulled out of the hug, sniffling, a few more tears running down her cheeks, but she was smiling. She nodded. "I would love some cookies, Janice, thank you. And personal voice lessons too, please."

~~Extended Ending~~

Natasha came home a few weeks later to find Steve and Becky curled up on their couch, _Guardians of the Galaxy_ playing on the Tv. Steve was asleep, and only shifted slightly, but not waking, when she dropped her bag into a chair and yanked her boots off, her new galaxy leggings sparkling. Becky looked over at her, and held a single finger to her lips.

Natasha shrugged. "He's out pretty good, nice job. Also, do you just live here now or what? Because it sure isn't fair for me to help pay rent but you not." She smiled, gaining a smile and a chuckle in return.

"As soon as I start working at Kitty Kafe this week, I can help with rent, no problem."

Natasha nodded, pulling her strappy, scuffed up leather jacket off. "By the way, Becky?"

"Hm?"

"What's your old name?"

"James. James Buchanan Barnes. My mom always shortened my middle name to Bucky, so I changed it to Becky." She shrugged, a hand moving to gently pet Steve's hair.

"Coolio. What are you doing after the movie, since Mr. Dork is out cold?"

"Probably brushing your hair and listening to you gossip about Clint or Sam or Tony?"

"Damn right."


End file.
